


Lost and Found

by shealynn88



Category: Constantine
Genre: F/M, Yuletide, challenge:NYR 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-01
Updated: 2007-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shealynn88/pseuds/shealynn88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sees the twin masses of scar tissue over each shoulder blade and lets himself wonder for a moment, what it must be like to fall so far, so fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LithiumDoll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LithiumDoll/gifts).



 

 

The homeless are everywhere. Normally John ignores them, but one's claimed a spot outside his favorite bakery and he can't help feeling a strange combination of irritation and pride as he spots the quiet form.

The human slime is starting to outnumber the inhuman.

John likes to think he's had a hand in that.

He walks through the door with one last glance down and she chooses that moment to look up, stopping him in his tracks.

"Gabriel," he growls in surprise, and then he forces himself to step past her. She's right where she belongs--at the bottom of the barrel. Suffering. Hurting. Hungry.

She deserves all that and more. She's just lucky he didn't kill her. Hell, if she hadn't been so damned eager for him to do just that, he might have.

He pushes her from his mind as he orders a danish--his new addiction now that the cigarettes are behind him--and tries to focus on the next job.

"Two fifty," the man at the counter tells him, dumping the danish unceremoniously in a bag.

John hands him three bills and starts out the door, bag in hand.

 _Just keep walking,_ he tells himself.

"Damn it!" He turns abruptly. "Give me another one."

He drops another three bills and yanks the second bag from the cashier's hand.

He doesn't stop at the door, just grabs her arm and pulls her along. "Come on," he mutters angrily. She struggles to her knees as he drags her forward without pity. Finally she makes it to her feet, hurrying next to him to keep from being pulled over again.  
When he looks over she glances up. Her expression is calm, her eyes are wide, and for some reason that makes him furious.

He yanks her arm and makes her stumble, but she's too pitiful for him to find any satisfaction in it.

***

She eats the danish like she's starving. From the looks of her, she is.

He gets up, sickened by her condition. She'd been so proud, once.

"Take a shower, you smell like you crawled out of a dumpster." He points in the general direction of the bathroom, and she gets up.

"Thank you, John," she says. He searches her face for sarcasm, that smart-ass wit that used to drive him insane, but there's not sign of it.

When she walks past him, he closes the door behind her.

***

She walks out completely naked and hands him the tattered remains of her clothes. She's skin and bones but with the dirt gone, she still has a glow about her. Humanity hasn't been able to strip her of that.

Not yet.

John realizes suddenly that he's staring, and he yanks the clothes from her fingers and tosses them in the garbage. "What's wrong with you?" he asks gruffly. "Get in there, I'll bring you some clothes."

She smiles, a hint of that sly humor back in her face. "Lust, John? I'd expect better of you."

"You're a walking skeleton, Gabriel. Not exactly my type," he tells her dryly.

When she turns, he sees the twin masses of scar tissue over each shoulder blade and he lets himself wonder for a moment, what it must be like to fall so far, so fast.

Then he goes and gets her some clothes.

***

He'd laugh at how she's dwarfed by his t-shirt, except he can't because he feels a little sick seeing at her like this.

"Come on," he says, looking away before she can see anything. "I made you a sandwich."

She sits at his table without a word and takes huge bites, getting through half the sandwich before she looks up and then runs to the bathroom.

He hears choking and coughing, and he stands outside the door thinking that he probably should have made soup instead.

The water runs in the sink and then she comes out. She's pale and water droplets are clinging to her jaw and the corner of her mouth, but she seems un-phased. She moves past him and sits back down at the table, taking smaller bites this time.

He sits across from her and waits.

"I'm dying, John," she says quietly as she finishes.

He shakes his head and grimaces. "If you'd eat more often, you'd be fine. You're human, now. You have to take care of yourself."

She shakes her head, no. "I went to a clinic. They looked at me, they took x-rays and blood." She smiles softly, a far off look in her eyes. "The doctor there, so compassionate. He took my hand as he told me the news." She looks back at him. "I'm going home, John."

He laughs--he can't help it. How long had he fought to avoid death, and now she talks about it like she's won the lottery? "God, Gabriel, you really are fucked up, aren't you? You're probably going to Hell. Have you thought about that?"

She shrugs as if it doesn't matter, and it makes him want to shake her. "He gave me another chance, John. He gave me a chance for redemption. Where ever I go, it will be where I belong. How can I be anything but grateful?"

Her eyes are too wide, her face is too smooth. He laughs shortly at the sudden realization-- "You're scared shitless."

Her jaw tightens and her eyes narrow, and then she relaxes again. "I'm ready."

He slaps the table and leans forward. "You can pretend all you want, Gabriel. You're scared. I can see it in your eyes. You don't want to die. Because as miserable as this life is, it's better than an eternity with Lucifer." He's angry. God, he's angry, and he wants to pretend it's at her. _She deserves this,_ he reminds himself.

But there's a tiny voice screaming inside him that no one deserves Hell. Not even Gabriel.

She shakes her head but he can see she's losing her cool.

"Still so proud," he chides, goading her. "Isn't that what got you into trouble in the first place?"

Her head snaps up. "I'm not afraid to die! I'm afraid--" She stops abruptly and he leans forward in triumph.

"I knew it!"

Her voice is quiet. "The only thing I fear is that I have not yet learned the lesson of what it is to be human, and I am running out of time. Death is a doorway, John. It is nothing to fear."

He snorts. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Gabriel."

She won't meet his eyes.

***

He lets her have the couch for the night, telling himself that it's not pity--he just doesn't want to make any rash decisions. He'll figure out what to do with her in the morning.

God's got a hell of a sense of humor, John concludes when Gabriel steps through his door a few hours later.

She's taken off the t-shirt he gave her, and her silhouette is a thin shadow in the doorway before she steps inside and sits on the edge of his bed.

The light through his window makes the ridges on her shoulder blades stand out, and he brushes his fingers over the scar tissue in fascination--not quite pity, not quite satisfaction. She makes an odd sound--a combination of surprise and pleasure. It's very human.

He meets her eyes, surprised all over again when he doesn't see a silver sheen there.

She looks puzzled, curious. She looks unsure, and it's another expression he never thought he'd see on her.

He kisses her, slowly sliding his lips against hers, and he tells himself it's only because he wants to keep her off balance. This isn't vengeance or pity. This isn't curiosity. It's just another piece of the war he's waging.

He breaks away, finally, and moves back just far enough that he can watch her.

She cocks her head, and then lifts one thin hand to touch his face.

He should toss her out on her bony little ass. He should walk away and never look back.

He should, but he doesn't.

When she leans in he meets her halfway and she's eager this time, opening her mouth until their lips fit together, until they're sharing breath.

When he finally pulls away, she watches him in wonder. "Is this what it means to be human?" she asks softly.

He's pretty sure he's the last person who knows anything about that. In fact, he's pretty sure his attempts at it have God and the Devil alike laughing. It certainly amused Gabriel in her heyday.

"Part of it," he whispers, sliding his fingertips along her jaw until she sighs and closes her eyes. "Just a very small part..."

 


End file.
